


c'mon baby, c'mon-c'mon darling, let me steal this moment from you, now

by nosecoffee



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Asexual Jughead, Asexuality, Car Sex, Drink Driving, Faerie AU, Fluff, He could murder me and I'd say thanks, It's a Wonderful Life, M/M, Magic themes, Sexual Experimentation, car crashes, i love Jughead so much, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 22:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: There is a river down at the border of Riverdale and Greendale. Jughead thinks Riverdale doesn't know how different it is compared to its counterpart, until Jason Blossom tries to run away and ends up dead in the river.("They don't like things they don't understand," Jughead's father had told him once, when they'd been pulled over on the road into Greendale. "Things they don't understand scare them. They can't know where we're from.")





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Running Up That Hill' by Kate Bush
> 
> I don't even know, guys

There's a St John's Wort sitting on the sill of his bedroom window and it makes Jughead wrinkle his nose. Archie notices and throws it away the next day.

Archie wears belts with silver buckles and he sees the way Jughead eyes them, and carefully, slowly replaces the buckles with brass, so as not to alert his father.

Archie's father warned him against going near Sweetwater River since they arrived in town, but just the crook of Jughead's finger can send him sprinting down the street towards him.

Archie has never asked why.

Jughead doesn't think he needs to.

~

There is a bus that you can take into town that isn't like the other buses.

It drives all around town, but no one gets off, and the driver isn't playing any music, and everyone is silent. Everyone is different, and a little frightening, and blank.

Jughead hails this bus when he is eleven, and his sister is four, and she wants lemon sherbets, but their father won't take them into town, in his truck.

Jughead hails the bus and it stops for them, the doors opening with whines of protest. He pays their fare and looks around for a seat, only to find that all are taken. He puts Jellybean in the bag rack because she's too short to hold the rail, and waits for the stop in town to get off the silent bus.

One day, he rides it and doesn't get off, sitting in the bag rack and watching the bus circle around town.

Jughead wonders who the blank people on the bus are. Wonders where they're going. Wonders if they ever get off. Wonders who they used to be.

~

There is a diner by the train tracks that appears to be lost in time, permanently stuck in the 50's. The benches are red leather, and there are neon signs out front, and the waitstaff are dressed like they work in a milk bar from years before.

The man who runs it, Pop Tate, hasn't aged a day since the first day Jughead turned up in the diner, it seems as though he's stuck there too, unable to leave, unable to age, doing nothing but serving burgers and fries and milkshakes to teens who grow old without him and die, only to have their children turn up and repeat the cycle.

Pop doesn't seem fussed. It's like he sold his soul or wished on a star that he'd never have to leave, never have to give up the place that he loves, never have to forget and grow old and die like his many patrons.

Jughead joins the cycle and watches Pop smile fondly, sadly, sweetly, like Jughead's yet another victim, and yet another child.

Jughead is a little different, though, and he sees it on the sparkle of Pop's eyes.

~

There is a drive-in by the forest, run down and dingy, where people come to make drug deals, to make out in cars, to smoke, and kiss, and hide.

Jughead loves it the first night he's there, watching Night of the Living Dead with Jellybean on the trunk of their car, their father perched on the truck cab behind them, chewing his popcorn obnoxiously loudly.

Ever since that night, he's dreamed of the drive-in, of the smell of popcorn and weed and a little bit of cat piss, of soda containers and popcorn buckets and candy wrappers littering the lawn, of the off-white screen they project on, all water damaged and graffitied.

Jughead loves it, but it's inevitable that the town closes the place down and puts the land up for sale. The drive-in is as close as Jughead comes to a home, a proper one, and when it closes he loses his sanctuary.

No one seems to care. Or maybe they just don't notice. That seems like typical Riverdale.

~

There is a bus stop, just at the edge of town that Jughead likes to get off the silent bus at.

There's a big crack in the roof of the cement shelter, and it drips when it rains. Jughead likes to sit huddled against the wall of the shelter, reading - or writing, as it were, when he gets older.

Jughead likes to draw on the cream coloured paint (the one that cracking and peeling all over the walls) in permanent markers and textas, writing 'Jug Jones Wuz Here' in block letters and cursive, and drawing clouds and stars.

There's nothing particularly special about this bus stop, except that it's right at the border, so if Jughead stands on the Riverdale side looking out at the road, he can see the highway out to Greendale.

But when he crosses the border and turns he just sees the open road, the highway continued, no Riverdale, and no bus stop.

Jughead guesses that he likes it there because it's an exposed position, but he knows he's as safe as he can get from everyone else in his town.

No one in Riverdale likes to go that close to the border.

~

There is a river down at the border of Riverdale and Greendale. Jughead thinks Riverdale doesn't know how different it is compared to its counterpart, until Jason Blossom tries to run away and ends up dead in the river.

("They don't like things they don't understand," Jughead's father had told him once, when they'd been pulled over on the road into Greendale. "Things they don't understand scare them. They can't know where we're from.")

Jughead doesn't think Riverdale knows that they exist in a place that isn't on anyone else's maps.

Jughead thinks it's an absolute miracle when Archie Andrews shows up, because no one new ever shows up in town, so Archie Andrews must be a fucking prodigy.

Betty thinks so too - even if she doesn't know what Jughead is, she still knows that the thing he is exists (everyone in town does, it's common knowledge) - and takes it upon herself to ask Archie out for milkshakes at Pop's.

Pop looks at Archie the way he looked at Jughead that first day in the diner, but maybe without the sparkle.

Like maybe Archie's a prodigy, but he's also just another customer.  
Jughead thinks there's more to him than that.

~

Cheryl Blossom holds a party in Jason's honour, and it all goes to hell.

~

When it happens, Archie isn't actually sure that it is happening.

He doesn't know who's car it is - Archie doesn't own a car, not yet, at least - but it's a nice one, so he hopes they have good insurance.

The car hits a tree side-on, and Archie thinks he gets whiplash with how hard his head snaps to the side, and then swings back, cracking the driver-side window.

And - god - if he wasn't fuzzy before, he is now. Maybe even worse.

He shouldn't have had any of that punch. He did reckon he saw Moose and Reggie put something in it.

Whatever.

He blinks, and the dark spots don't leave completely, but his vision does clear up a bit. His chest rattles with the sudden effort it takes to breathe, and he can taste blood in his mouth. He bit his tongue, apparently, hard.

Archie groans, moves to undo his seatbelt and hisses when he undoes it, as it slides against his bloody collarbone. How'd it get bloody? What's happened to him?

Someone knocks on the passenger side window. Archie's vision is blurry and patchy. If the window wasn't already a spiderweb of cracks he'd still have trouble figuring out who it was. That and he hardly knows anyone here.

The door opens and the car begins to beep in protest.

A boy in a black jacket and a grey beanie peers in and looks at him.

"Lemme guess," he drawls, "you went to Cheryl Blossom's party?"

"Who are you?" Archie croaks back, feeling something trickling down his forehead. He puts a finger to it and it comes away slick with blood.

The boy tuts, "Typical Archie Andrews."

He pulls Archie out of the car and onto the sidewalk - Archie doesn't recognise the neighbourhood and it's freaking him out - and sits him down against a tree.

"I don't know what you thought you were doing," the boy continues, "but drink-driving is a bad idea and you could have seriously injured yourself."

"I crashed someone's car." Archie grunts as the boy in black swipes at his forehead with the sleeve of his jumper.

"They'll get over it." The boy assures him.

"Who are you?" Archie asks again.

"Call me Jughead."

~

Jughead doesn't know why he walks Archie to his trailer, knowing for a fact that Jellybean is at someone's house, and his father is out.

Just knows that as he takes down the First Aid kit from above the fridge and sits Archie on the kitchen bench, rolls up his sleeves, that he's doing the right thing.

There's something about this kid that's seriously fucking with his brain, worming its way in and fucking obliterating every sane thought in his mind.

There's something about this kid that makes Jughead want to kiss him, and that's never happened before. If he's honest, this kid scares him.

He cleans Archie up - the head wound was superficial, and there's a shallow cut above his collarbone, but other than that, he looks fine. He complains about the effort it takes to breathe and Jughead crosses his fingers and says it's the shock, hoping to god that he's right.

Jughead walks the redhead home and when Archie asks how he knows where he lives, Jughead just shrugs and says, "It's a small town. Not much to do."

Archie appears to take this in stride and walk into the house.

He leaves Jughead out on the sidewalk.

Jughead takes the bus home, but only after a couple of loops.

~

"How'd your milkshake date go?" Jughead asks, mind still looping on the way Archie's blood looked in the shifty lights of his trailer. He's still hooked on how Archie happened to crash a car so near to where Jughead happened to be. It seems much too convenient to be coincidence.

"It was alright. Don't think he knew." Betty shrugs, not really paying attention.

"He'll learn. Something weird will happen and he'll go looking for answers." Jughead says, tiredly.

"And we'll be ready when he does." Betty grunts, sure and steely.

"You said that about Jason, too." He reminds her and her head snaps up, eyes tired and burning.

"Jason's in the past, Juggie. Gotta focus on the present." She says, tone showing how angry she really is.

"We can't fuck up like that again." He says.

"I know, but it wasn't my fault." Jughead snorts. Betty glares. "If you've forgotten, I lost something too." She reminds him.

"As if I'd forget, Betts." Jughead tells her.

"We have to keep him safe." The tiredness is back, seeping into both of them.

"I plan on it." He says.

"You'd better." She replies.

~

Archie asks for Calculus notes, and Jughead begrudgingly helps him out.

Archie asks to sit with him at lunch and Jughead gestures to the empty table like he couldn't care less.

Archie asks if Jughead wants a ride home in his beaten up pickup (the one he's gotten a few weeks after the crash that no one really knows about) and maybe that's where Jughead goes wrong (or right, depending on how he's looking at it, and when) by accepting.

Because it becomes habit.

And bad habits are the worst to break.

He takes extra notes for Archie on days he's sick or away or skipping (but that doesn't happen too often), and waits in the lunch line with Archie, even though he's already bought his lunch, walking him to their table against the wall, waiting for him after football practice for a ride home.

Jughead doesn't even notice for a while, but by the time he realises that he's lost on Archie Andrews, it's much too late to do anything about it.

~

("Is Jughead your real name?"

"No."

"What is?"

"I shouldn't say. It's bad luck. Same with my sisters. Urban legend that if you say these names something bad will happen to you."

"Oh. So, Jughead, then."

"Yeah.")

~

"I want to show you something," Jughead says one day and Archie doesn't say a word, just grabs his dumb Letterman jacket (the one he doesn't take off for anything, not ever Jason's memorial when Betty and Jughead shared a look over the aisle after they watched the coffin be carried out) and gestures for Jughead to lead the way.

He flags down the bus easily, and nods to the silent bus driver.

If Archie's sharp intake of breath is anything to go by, he wasn't expecting this.

Jughead tells Archie all about the loops, about the trips he's done on this bus, about all the assignments he's done with the dull rocking underneath him. They're perched on the bag rack, even though they're tall enough to reach the railing.

Jughead doesn't remember when one moment blended into another and they're kissing, but he's not going to take it back. Not for the whole fucking world.

~

He takes Archie to Pop's buys as many burgers as he can possibly afford and they talk.

The jukebox plays hipster covers of eighties songs, and indie rock bands, and the occasional Elvis single, but it doesn't matter one way or the other to Jughead.

He feels dirty, watching Archie eat with the intensity of a dog on edge, but it's instinct, to see people eat the things he's given them.

Apparently, no matter how many precautions Archie's father has taken, he doesn't seem to know the tales, the stories that say you should never take food from a-

Or maybe he just doesn't know.

Jughead's on the fence over whether Archie knows and is just good at keeping secrets, or if he's oblivious.

Either way, when they're finished at Pop's, Jughead leaves feeling utterly gratified in a way he hasn't in a while.

~

Jughead climbs over the chain link fence that surrounds the drive-in now, and smiles to himself when Archie follows over, with little hesitation.

"You have a drive-in?" Archie asks as Jughead picks the lock to the projection booth.

"Used to. It's closed now, but everything's still here. Pick one of the classics." The door opens with a whine and Jughead walks over to the desk and turns on the old Pixar lamp.

Archie rolls his eyes. "Because I was gonna ask to watch Trolls, obviously."

"Don't hate on Anna Kendrick." Jughead mumbles, and Archie laughs.

Archie picks It's A Wonderful Life, and they project it onto the wall above the desk.

"That's a Christmas movie." Jughead protests when Archie picks it. "Does it look like Christmas to you?"

"I don't care." Archie responds, with mock-confidence that he pulls off rather well.

They're partway through the movie when Archie leans over, and Jughead stiffens, and Archie says, "D'you want the moon?"

Jughead shakes his head, ignoring the way Archie's breath lands hot on his neck.

"No. Just this."

It's quiet again.

They're sitting on the floor against the wall with the windows they used to project through, sharing chips that Jughead pulled out of his bag.

"Do you ever feel like that?" Jughead whispers, in the middle of the movie.

"Like what?" Archie replies, whispering too.

"Like the world wouldn't notice if you just fell off the grid? Like it would keep turning, and nothing would change?" Archie cocks his head to the side, contemplating. In the movie, George is getting ready to jump. "Like nothing you've done has made any difference?"

"Do you?" He eventually counters.

"Sometimes." Jughead huffs.

"Now?" A hesitant hand takes his and Jughead looks down.

"No." He whispers.

"Why?"

"Because you're here. And you'd sure notice if I just left."

"Yeah." Archie agrees, squeezing his hand, and Jughead's heart aches, thinking maybe Archie wouldn't be here if he knew. "I would."

~

Archie brings his guitar to the bus stop, when Jughead decides to show him.

He plays short nothing's, just a few chords over and over, and they echo in the shelter, but there's no one to disturb, because no one likes to live this close to the border.

Archie hums under his breath, strums, as Jughead types and they make a kind of quiet, ill-timed symphony between the two of them.

~

Jughead lies with his head in Archie's lap, toes barely grazing the water of the river.

"This can't be forever, can it?" Jughead doesn't know which one of them says it.

There isn't a reply to tell him.

Just the sound of rushing water all around them, the warmth of each other the only assurance that they're not alone.

~

"What are you doing?" Betty hisses, pushing him into a locker, between classes.

"What I want." Jughead snarls back, and throws her hands off of him.

"You're making a mistake." She says, and her eyes are full of worry. "It's going to be Jason and Polly all over again. You'll figure out that you can never be together, and that it'll never be enough, and try and leave and-"

"You're wrong." Jughead whispers, cutting her off. "Everything I need, everything I want is right here."

~

Jughead's not sure what Archie has playing on the car radio, but when it's happening he doesn't actually care.

He doesn't know when he let it get this far, and maybe Betty's right, and he'd better quit while he's ahead and break this poor boys heart (he's sure now that Archie loves him, even if he doesn't know what Jughead really is), but in the moment that he's thinking it, he dismisses it.

Archie's kissing his neck, laid out as much as is possible in the backseat of the pickup, and Jughead can only vaguely see his outline and the shine of his eyes by the light the dashboard is giving off.

It's an awkward angle, especially considering that he's crushing his toes into the left-side backseat door, and he's still propped up against the window, and he's slipping off the seat gradually.

Jughead wonders what's so good about making out in cars, and why it's so romanticised.

Of course, Archie's hands are on his stomach underneath his shirt, just above his jeans button, and Jughead's holding fistfuls of his hair in a way that's sure to hurt.

Archie doesn't seem to mind as he mouths along Jughead's neck.

"I want to take off your shirt." He tells Jughead, right up against his pulse point, his voice reaching under Jughead's skin. It makes him shiver and flush hot in his cheeks, on his neck.

"Okay." Jughead whispers.

Archie makes quick work of it, tossing it into the front seat and going about kissing down his torso, stopping occasionally to kiss each mole he comes across.

Jughead arches his back, pressing Archie closer, a hand at the nape of Archie's neck, in the short curls at the bottom. Archie moans and Jughead exhales unsteadily, because he didn't know a sound like that could possibly affect him in such a way.

Archie slides his hands along Jughead's sides, hard and soft at different points, callouses on the tips of his fingers from strumming his guitar.

It takes a bit of shifting to get Jughead's jeans off, and draped over the front seat, but when it's done, Jughead can see Archie a little more clearly than before, silhouetted by the fogged up windows. They share a long look before Archie kisses him again and slides down.

"Are you used to getting what you want?" Jughead asks when Archie's kissing his stomach, just above the waistband of his boxers.

"Yes." The word reverberates through him and Jughead has to restrain himself from shivering.

"Am I what you want?" He asks, more meaning, more steel behind it.

"God, yes." And Archie sounds so breathless, so wanting, so greedy. Jughead's unsure as to whether to stop this in its tracks.

He's at something of a dilemma, and then Archie says, "Is this okay?"

Jughead looks down at him and his train of thought screeches to a halt.

He looks so wild there, red hair rumpled and laced between Jughead's fingers - the fingers he's only just noticed are trembling - eyes dark, pupils dialated to the point that they've almost swallowed his brown irises, mouth swollen and red.

Jughead thinks he'll try, just if it means he gets to see Archie like this.

"Yes," he says.

~

Afterwards, it's less sweet.

For one-

"Why would anyone want to have sex in a car?" Archie asks, stretching. Jughead climbs back into the front seat and puts his bare feet up on the dashboard. Archie's sliding on his shirt, so he knows it'll be a bit until they're off again.

"I could not tell you." Jughead drawls back, and something about the entire scene makes him itch for a cigarette, even though he doesn't smoke.

"Was that okay?" Archie questions, tossing one of Jughead's scuffed shoes into the front seat.

Jughead purses his lips and thinks the question over. "It was fine. Not my thing, though." Archie makes a grunting noise that Jughead takes as acceptance. "You are."

"I am what?" Archie climbs into the front seat and hands Jughead his other shoe.

"My thing. Sex isn't as good as seeing you look like you did just now. All kind of surprised and relaxed and badly lit. Very aesthetic." Jughead explains and Archie cocks his head for a moment, mulling the comment over.

"Okay," he says, eventually. "I can roll with that. You didn't like the sex much?"

"Not really. I mean, it was fine. I just don't get the fuss of it." Jughead shrugs.

"Alright. We don't have to do it again if you don't want." And the absolute understanding in his tone makes something well up in Jughead's chest, something emotional and needy.

"I'm a Faerie." He blurts, watches Archie freeze. "I just thought you should know."

Archie slowly turns to stare at him, but there's nothing like disbelief in his gaze, just minor confusion, and - "Is this supposed to be news to me?" Archie inquires, delicately.

It's Jughead's turn to freeze. "You knew?" Archie nods. "How long?"

The red-head snorts. "I grew up with stories of the Fae. For one, the St John's Wort? My mom gave that to me. The belt buckles were worth a lot more money than the ones I got replaced. The bus? The diner? The way you watched me eat? I knew."

"Then you know you can't leave. Because I bought the food-" Archie puts a hand on Jughead's shoulder and even after everything, he is acutely aware of just how much of him Archie's touching.

"I don't care, Jug. I've known this long, and I haven't tried to leave. Did you expect me to?" Jughead shakes his head, pulls away with the intent to put on his shoes.

"Other people have tried." He replies, thinks of Jason and Polly.

"Well, I'm not other people and neither are you. D'you wanna go get a burger? It's on me." He looks up, halfway putting his actual shoe on. Archie's face is serious, but lighthearted.

"You know, it doesn't work the other way round, Arch." He says, slowly. A slow smile starts to spread across Archie's lips.

"Says who?" He inquires and Jughead has to think about it.

"...I don't know." Jughead admits and Archie laughs, twisting the key and bringing the car out of neutral.

~

There is a town, that isn't on anybody's map, except their own.

The whole town is magic.

There are two boys who know that better than anyone.

They never try to leave, but it doesn't mean they don't lie on the banks of the river wishing they could.

Other people try.

A blonde girl who falls in love with a raven-haired girl from Greendale, a blonde girl who tried to warn one of the boys from her very fate, ends up shuddering by the side of the road, unable to find Riverdale again, blocked from it.

The boys can do nothing.

They toss and turn, but it isn't so bad, because they know where the best magic is at, and they know where each other will be when the sun comes back up over the horizon.

And - for now, at least - that's enough.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos, and track me down on Tumblr @nose-coffee. Again, thank you.


End file.
